


pretty girl

by spells



Series: diary 001 [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Feelings, Insecurity, M/M, Pining, Songfic, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-08-04 14:02:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16348079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spells/pseuds/spells
Summary: i was such a fool!





	pretty girl

**Author's Note:**

> this work is part of series! it probably can be read by itself but it works better if you read all instances. either way, enjoy!  
> title, summary and prompt come from clairo's song, pretty girl  
> huge thanks to bee for being an amazing beta, check her out at [livennadin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/livennadin/pseuds/livennadin)  
> content warning: abusive relationship.  
> trigger warning: transphobia.

“Tadaima,” Kenma says quietly, taking off his shoes and leaving them by the door. He can hear the buzz of the shower, reverberating through the plumbing, numbing the walls, so he knows he is speaking to no one. He doesn’t care, doesn’t mind it. He makes a beeline to his room and slides the door closed.

His room’s a mess, so he carefully walks through the clutter on the floor, avoids stepping on his duvet, and sits down on his bed. It isn’t surprising that this is what it ends up like, after Shouyou coming to visit; it’s not quite surprising, either, that he doesn’t mind it very much. It feels right, that Shouyou causes this. The boy’s a hurricane, a solar storm, a meteor shower. Kenma’s room smells a little like him, amidst the chaos, and it’s right.

He half-heartedly pulls his duvet back onto his mattress, not tidy but at least off the floor. Everything else that was on his bed he puts on his bedside table, climbing underneath the covers, and plucking Polaroids from the pile of things on his nightstand.

Shouyou had talked Kenma into taking the pictures, and he’d needed a lot of convincing; he’s always hesitant on wasting the expensive film on bad photos, so he never risks it. A couple of them ended up developing poorly, but they still hold something in them, something that thaws Kenma’s heart with fondness.

“They won’t be bad, I promise,” Shouyou insisted, a huge smile plastered across his face. He’s learning to be a bit quieter, a bit subtler around Kenma, but his words haven’t lost their excitement or emotion. “If there’s feeling behind it, anything’s just- whoa!” He jumped backwards off the bed, haphazardly landing on his feet, and his smile widened. He stretched his arms far from his body. “You can take a picture of me, now! Practice! What do you say?”

Then, he started dancing, as if it didn’t take anything. Like the wind was taking him, like an autumn leaf, like tall flowers to the breeze, like raindrops. Like a Van Gogh painting. Smoothly, naturally. Unable to hide the smile that blossomed on his face, Kenma brought the camera up to his face, and took a photo of Shouyou.

He’s looking at that picture, and it’s pretty sloppy. Overexposed, the sun at noon too bright through the window, moving parts of Shouyou’s limbs, blurry. It’s still beautiful, in every possible way. Kenma sets it aside.

Somehow, even if it’s past sundown, the same light that had shined so bright and made Shouyou glow is burning right through Kenma’s chest, almost dangerously, unstoppable. It sends sparks and tingles down to his entire body, through his bloodstream: down his torso and legs and up again, refuelling itself.

He sighs and lies down, staring up at the ceiling.

Everyone has insecurities. It’s natural of the human being, to doubt itself. It’s a crucial part of needing someone else, needing to live in a community. Therefore, it’s expected of Kenma to also have fears, to not be a totally self-confident and careless person.

Things go a bit beyond not being self-confident, though.

He got a chance to talk to other trans folks online, a few years prior. All of them were foreigners, stretching his English skills to the max, because the probability of living a happy and secure life as a trans person in Japan was… Minuscule. Still, even though some of the kids he’d met lived in places that were far more accepting, Kenma learned that all of them had crippling self-doubts and overwhelming insecurities. They came from misgendering, transphobia, dysphoria. Everything that involved being a trans person induced anxiety, so it was no wonder it ended up inducing actual disorders in so many people. 

Kenma’s lucky, to be able to function and live well, without the struggle of serious mental illnesses. That doesn’t mean growing up and becoming himself had been easy, though – he might not have fallen victim to illnesses, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have trauma.

It was really hard to put it to words, to describe it, when he was small. He obviously didn’t know what being ‘trans’ meant, or that being something other than the girl he’d been ‘born as’ was a possibility. He’d never been like other boys, with the getting dirty or being rowdy. He wasn’t like the girls, either, so he ended up alone. Video games had been his best friend, right until Kuro showed up.

Kuro had been who saved him. Had it not been for him, Kenma probably still wouldn’t have any friends. He would be an outcast, a loner, if he hadn’t managed to befriend his annoying neighbour with a passion for volleyball.

In the beginning, hanging out with Kuro was something Kenma did so his mom would be happy, since she was so adamant with things like ‘going out to play’ and ‘making new friends’. He would much rather stay inside, but she kept asking and asking, and so he gave in. Kuro had been the obvious choice because he lived close and, even though he liked teasing people and talked a lot, he understood personal space and didn’t push Kenma when he was at his breaking point.

Kenma can vividly remember going outside just to sit in the grass and read, because he didn’t have a handheld yet. He can vividly remember Kuro sitting beside him and offering to read it aloud, because Kenma wasn’t very good at reading, himself.

For some reason, he feels like Kuro’s always known who he is. When Kenma told Kuro he felt like a boy – he couldn’t find it in him to say ‘I am a boy’, even though he knew it to be true -, before the beginning of high school, Kuro wasn’t shocked. He’d accepted Kenma regardless. Had been there for him when he told his mom, and had been there for him when his dad had never looked in his face again.

Kuro has always been there. He has always tried to.

Kenma had to push him away for a bit, though.

He grimaces as he recalls this, but doesn’t stop; he sticks his hand in the fire, the hole raw and open in his chest, and starts digging, searching. He won’t fight the warmth, but he knows the warmth isn’t consequence-less. He needs to warn himself.

Last time he’d felt like this, last time he slowly cared for a campfire that built and built on his chest, it wasn’t nice. It didn’t end up pretty.

Kazuki was a couple years older, a third-year. He was good-looking, funny, and nice. He was always looking at Kenma in such a way that blew sparks everywhere, and Kenma could barely breathe through the smoke. It was gradual, not at all hurried, but it still happened so fast. Kenma doesn’t know when Kazuki’s touches started lingering, always gentle, always careful. On his shoulder, his lower back, his hip. Never too much. Never aggressive.

They kissed in a party, loud music booming and drinks rippling in their hands. Kazuki cupped Kenma’s jaw, guiding, and it was so good. He never did too much, even if he took it. He led Kenma down a pathway that was pleasant, even if fast, even if unexpected. Why should he mind it? It was probably normal, anyway, he’d thought.

Kenma was already out to him, then. He’d come out to his high school friends a couple of months after meeting them, feeling it was a safe place. Knowing Kuro would back him up, and protect him. He didn’t have to talk to many people, anyway; a couple of kids who were already much like him, and who already had minds past the conservativeness of society.  _ This is Tokyo,  _ he remembers Morisuke saying, soft smile and kind eyes,  _ we’re open to everything new.  _

He should’ve known it was too good to be true. He should’ve known the Kazuki he met, the Kazuki whose hand barely touched his hip and who overflowed understanding, was so perfect he couldn’t be real.

That Kazuki faded into a more possessive one. That Kazuki faded into one that would pull Kenma onto his lap even when Kenma didn’t want that. That Kazuki faded into one that would tell his friends about his  _ girlfriend _ , and how  _ she  _ was so perfect.

That Kazuki faded into one that got jealous, that warned Kenma to keep away from Kuro, that took more than Kenma was willing to give.

The warmth grew into a fire, big and overpowering, warm and irresistible. Fascinating, so Kenma inched closer and closer until he was a witch at the stake, burning and burning, but still so alive.

Kazuki never hurt him, so Kenma never worried. This was fine, and this was normal. If no one got hurt, what’s the big deal? He was a bit too resistant at times, but that was just his insecurity, he really needed to let loose. His voice, inside his brain, started to become Kazuki’s.

When Kazuki told him to quit volleyball to spend more time with him, when he said the sport wasn’t fit for someone like him, that’s when the fire spread, and the firefighters came. Kuro, and Morisuke, and Kenma’s mom - intervening, stopping him, talking to him. Kenma didn’t understand, didn’t get what was wrong, and couldn’t comprehend.

He’d cried so much when it finally got to him.

He’s become terrified of the fire, of the warmth that settles in his heart and creeps up and down, unsteady. No wonder why, too. He’s had some time to heal, he hasn’t seen Kazuki in months, and has had nothing but support from everyone he loves, everyone who loves him.

The fear is still there.

Shouyou’s a hurricane, taking Kenma off the ground and rendering him powerless, led by something he can’t control. It’s frightening. Kenma can’t let himself be used like he was, not again. He has to mind for himself, even if he has others that want to protect him more than anything. He has to be self-sufficient, and has to fend for himself, at least once.

He’s not scared of Shouyou. He’s curious. He’s mindful, nevertheless, because he’s wanted to get closer to the fire once before.

His phone buzzes in his nightstand, and he lifts it just to read the notification.

from shouyou, 21:04

_ im home!!! today was really fun kenma, thank you for spending time with meeee  _ _ ♡ _ _ 〜ヾ _ _ (  _ _ ˃ _ _ ́ _ _ ▿ _ _ ˂ _ _ ̀ ) _ _ ノ〜 _ _ ♡  _ _ i hope you sleep alright!!!! good night!!! _

Kenma’s mindful, careful, watchful.

to shouyou, 21:06

_ Yeah. Had fun too. Good night, Shouyou. _

**Author's Note:**

> talk to me: [twitter](https://twitter.com/karasunya) | [tumblr](http://gymthree.tumblr.com/)  
> thank you for reading! kudos, comments and bookmarks are amazing but ah, do as you please.


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